What happens in Italy, stays in Italy
by Goldilocks 92
Summary: Hermione's wonderful post-war recuperation holiday in Italy is over, but will she be able to forget all that has happened? Will she be able to forget Severus? HG/SS, Lemons :D
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys, I hope you enjoy this new story! It should end up being two or three chapters long, and I hope to have it finished soon! Some of it is based on my own summer holiday, so that's where my inspiration is from :) Tell me what you think, and enjoy!**

Normally Hermione quite enjoyed the flight home after a long holiday. Holidays were all good and fun, but after several weeks abroad, enough was often enough. The anticipation of seeing her home and friends again and, of course, of getting back to some hard work, combined with her general love of flying, always ensured that the flight home would be a pleasant experience. Traditionally she would flick through the photos on her camera reminiscing and consigning the events of the trip to her impeccable memory. This, however, had been no normal holiday.

Instead of thinking back to the highlights of her trip, Hermione tried her best to prevent herself from doing so. She tried concentrating on the articles in her in-flight magazine but none of them proved to be even remotely interesting. She considered taking one of her books out of her bag, but she was too smart to think that they would make the least bit of difference in distracting her from her thoughts.

Hermione continued absentmindedly flicking through the magazine, ignoring the Italian man to her left who had been trying to catch her eye since they boarded the flight in the hope of starting a conversation with her, something which Hermione really didn't have the patience for. Instead, she had turned her body in such a way that she was leaning into the window, her back to the man, making it absolutely clear that she was not open for small talk.

Hermione's hand froze in the air, the page she was turning suddenly clenched between her cold fingers. A panorama of Florence was printed on the top half of the next page, with an article printed beneath. She could not determine what it was about, her gaze was so fixated on the image, but her mind elsewhere.

_It was warm. A breeze played with her hair, tickling her face, but she was too content to move it. The chatter of the other people watching the sun set over Florence from the Piazzale Michelangelo became mere background noise while the guitar music that was being played softly by a busker precariously perched on the wall surrounding the piazza, with a steep drop behind it, stayed in the forefront of her senses. The whole situation was a cliché, she knew it, but it was the cliché she had been looking for when she had spontaneously booked her flight to Italy. However, there was one main difference to what she had been expecting, Hermione thought to herself with a satisfied grin on her face as warm, strong arms wrapped around her from behind and a chin came to rest in the crook of her neck. Long, silky black hair joined the brown curls already waving around her face, and as his warmth enveloped her, so did a spicy, musky scent she had been able to identify as belonging to one single person in the world since she was in her first year..._

Hermione jerked herself out of her reverie. She had promised herself not to torture herself with memories of situations that could never be repeated. Hadn't they decided, together, that what had happened in Italy would stay in Italy? Another cliché, she knew, but one they had decided to follow together. What had been a wonderful fortnight spent together in Italy had to remain just that. Neither of them had wanted to complicate matters by continuing their romantic relations when they each, separately, returned to England. Both of them had agreed that the best thing would be to enjoy this wonderful country together, without having to worry about the future. Without that decision they would never have grown so close, they would have never been so uninhibited in acting upon their desires. Knowing that their time together came with an expiration date had therefore made the last fortnight the most wonderful of Hermione's life. And now that it was over, she had to accept that that was for the best and should only look back on that fortnight with fond memories, and not with this deep longing that churned in her gut.

Congratulating herself for regaining her composure, Hermione spent the next half hour reading an article about the newest fashion trends in Milan with such a look of concentration on her face, that anyone observing her at that moment would have assumed that the article dealt with the finer details of quantum mechanics rather than the fact that heeled trainers and pastel colours would be in trend in the upcoming season.

...

Hermione blinked blearily, momentarily disorientated. She wasn't where she thought she would be. The light shining into her eyes was unbearably bright, and not gentled by the green canvas of the tent she had been sleeping in for the past month. She didn't feel like she was floating due to the intricate charm she had placed on the floor of the little two-man tent she had borrowed from her parents. Instead she was almost upright, her legs uncomfortably jammed in the little space they were allowed to occupy and a tense knot in her neck that initially prevented her from craning her head to the left in order to find out where she was. As the awareness of being on the aeroplane to Luton took hold of her, so did the awareness of what was missing most of all as she woke up: Severus holding onto her, spooning her while nuzzling her neck to wake her, just as he had that very morning. To Hermione, it was absolutely incredible how close they had become within a mere two weeks. Still half asleep, she let herself think back to how it had all started...

_She was sitting at a small cafe in the centre of Palermo, her legs stretched out in front of her and her head leant back, increasing the surface area of her body in order to soak in as much sun as possible. Half a Cappuccino rested in one hand, while she took a drag from her cigarette with the other. Two weeks in Italy had taught her that there was no better combination of anything in the world: sun, great coffee and a Marlboro light. Of course she knew that smoking was bad for her, but then again, so was being in a war and she had survived that. Just about. _

_The war had been the reason for her departure to Italy two weeks prior. When it had ended, it had felt like all the light had gone from the world. The loss of so many loved ones had made celebration impossible. It had also created a large gap between her and her two best friends. What was the point of discussing anything? It wouldn't help anything, they said. She had tried to help rebuild Hogwarts, but the memories that place held for her had been too much to handle. Hermione had tried to think about her future, knowing that she had to sort something out. She had no family, could not rely on her friends and had little money of her own. However, for the first time in her life she had decided not to do the sensible thing. Instead she had gathered the rest of her money, bought a return flight to Italy and had converted the rest into Euros. After a quick series of short phone calls, informing Minerva and various friends of her plans and asking them not to try and contact her until she returned , Hermione was gone and had not looked back since. _

_So far she had travelled around the north of Italy before taking a ferry to Sicily. She had two weeks left before her return flight from Milan and therefore had two weeks to travel back to the north. Sicily was wonderful, but it was her last stop, Florence, which she was looking forward to the most. Taking another drag of her cigarette, Hermione contemplated the city she had longed to visit since she was a little girl, listening to her mother's stories about the magical city her parents had visited on their honeymoon. The reminder of her parents sent a quick stab of pain through Hermione's heart, but she pushed it to the back of her conscience as she always did, with the knowledge that they were safe in Australia. Perhaps wishing to go to Florence so desperately was a way for Hermione to feel closer to them again, but mainly she just wished to see the beautiful Duomo rising up from between sun burned church steeples, the mountains rising up around the city, cradling it in their protective embrace..._

"_Scusi, where you from?" Hermione was startled from her reverie by a smooth voice. Keeping her eyes shut, hoping that she wasn't the one being questioned, she heard the phrase being repeated. Straightening herself, Hermione reluctantly opened her eyes. The one downside of Italy: the men. Although she was single, Hermione wasn't interested in a romance of any kind, especially not with yet another sleazy Italian man, thinking that any single, female tourist was just begging for an affair. Hermione had come to Italy to be on her own, to sort out her own thoughts and feelings and to reinstate her own peace of mind. She had heard the phrase "Scusi, where you from?", sometimes with a "Bella" added in the mix, a few too many times. After ascertaining who exactly was disturbing her peace, Hermione politely told the man in question that she would like to be alone, assuming that he would accept her wish and leave. Instead, it sounded like he was protesting, albeit so quickly and with such a heavy accent that Hermione couldn't make out a single word of what he was saying. Repeating her wish for peace in her own, less than perfect, Italian, Hermione picked up her book from the table and pretended to start reading, lighting up a second cigarette in the process, both to calm down the strong feeling of irritation rising within her again and to have something further to occupy her and therefore to make it very clear to the annoying Italian, that he was superfluous and unwanted in this situation. _

_Just when the man started raising his voice and carried on acting insulted, clearly unable to accept rejection, Hermione felt a hand on her shoulder. "Is this imbecile making a nuisance of himself?" asked a deep, velvety and hauntingly familiar voice, causing Hermione to gasp and her heart to gallop in her chest. She would recognise that voice anywhere. She started feeling dizzy with a bewildering mixture of elation and confusion. She was sure she would have fainted, were it not for the steady hand on her shoulder, grounding her. As she turned, the cafe she was sitting in, the man who had started shouting and the cigarette which had promptly fallen to the ground, disappeared to nothingness in her mind, replaced only by the endlessly deep, endlessly black eyes which were now connected to hers. _

"_Snape", Hermione gasped._

"Ladies and gentlemen, as we start our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Please turn off all electronic devices until we are safely parked at the gate. Thank you." The announcement startled Hermione out of her reverie and once again she berated herself for remembering. As she stretched she looked out of the window, dismayed at what she saw. Everything was grey. This was so obviously England and not Italy. In a few minutes she would land and her wonderful holiday would be entirely over.

She would need to try to reconnect with her friends, to find somewhere to live and, most importantly, to work out what she would be doing for the rest of her life.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione woke up in the middle of her first night back in England gasping and soaked in sweat, her hands clutching thin air, as if trying to reach something, or someone. Her mind was filled with swirling images and feelings, long black hair, hot pale skin, fingers trailing down Hermione's side as someone sucked on her nipple making her cry out loud.

As she lay there, Hermione felt less in control than she had ever before in her life, even during the war. She couldn't sway her thoughts and stop them from remembering a set of deep black eyes searing into her as a body thrust into hers, harder and deeper with each stroke. Hermione couldn't stop her heart beating so fast, it threatened to break free out of her chest. Hermione couldn't stop her core from throbbing around a painful emptiness, longing for the man she had left behind in Italy.

She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 4 AM. She knew she wouldn't be able to get to sleep, even though she had only been out for a few hours.

Hermione padded softly to the small kitchenette and made herself a cup of strong coffee. She'd gotten used to the taste in Italy. After the coffee was done, she wrapped herself in a warm blanket, picked up the mug and opened the doors to her balcony, settling down in an old padded chair and lighting a cigarette. A muggle friend had lent her keys to the flat in central London before Hermione had left for Italy- her parents were rich and she didn't need the flat for a few months, so why not? Hermione knew she would have to find her own place soon enough though- she couldn't live off her friend's charity forever.

As she sipped her coffee and pulled on her cigarette, Hermione couldn't help but think back to her fortnight with Severus. It had all started that day in Palermo when Severus saved her from the attentions of the irritating Italian man. Afterward she had invited him to join her for coffee and, surprisingly, he had acquiesced. He hadn't seemed at all like the Snape she had known previously- he was much more relaxed and he looked younger. His hair was shinier and his skin was slightly tanned. Most importantly he wasn't scowling. During that first conversation he had even smiled. Hermione had been describing the attentions of other irritating Italian men with such an air of frustration and general disapproval that Snape's lips had curved upwards, stopping Hermione from continuing on her rant in shock. At that moment she had realised that what she wanted more than anything was to get to know the Severus Snape she had seen in that smile.

The same day they had reached an agreement: they would travel together, sleeping in their own separate tents of course, and Severus would act as a blockade to unwanted male attention while Hermione would help him collect potions ingredients- his main reason for travelling. Now that Severus was free from his two masters, he was planning on opening his own, private potions business. After their two weeks of companionable travelling was over, they would part again and remain distant acquaintances in England- just as they always had been.

Of course it hadn't been all smiles and laughs the whole time. While Severus had been in a better mood than Hermione had ever seen him, he was still Severus Snape. He growled and snapped at strangers for no apparent reason, he wouldn't tolerate it when Hermione babbled on about the same thing for too long without actually saying anything, and occasionally we was unbearably moody and grouchy. But Hermione quickly found that she liked him, just as he was. When he was moody she would simply read or look at their surroundings, enjoying the silence. But the best was when he felt like talking. They were able to talk for hours about anything- academics, potions, the Italians, the other tourists... but they had never mentioned the war. It was an unspoken agreement between them. After all, they were in Italy to escape from all that.

Hermione got up from the balcony, having finished her cigarette and the coffee, and went back into the apartment sighing. If only their relationship had stayed as it had been, then, everything would have been so much easier. But two days after they had first met, one of their bags had been stolen on the train between Palermo and Catania, the bag containing Snape's tent. Of course Snape was furious, mostly at himself for not noticing and for not keeping an eye on their things well enough. But Hermione had promised that her tent was big enough for the two of them and that had placated Snape somewhat. Actually, he had seemed quite subdued for the rest of the day, as if turning something over in his mind, again and again.

That night everything had changed between them. They had lain side by side in their little tent which they had pitched up at the foot of Mount Etna, magically concealing it from the local authorities. Neither was asleep but they were both pretending to be, lying on their backs, their arms stiffly at their sides, the tension crackling between them. Hermione had been attracted to the man since they had first met in Palermo two days ago. Ever since then the attraction had only been increasing, and now it was stronger than it had ever been before. She felt a tight, hot coil in her abdomen and her heart was beating quickly, her hands clenched to fists at her sides. She knew that she wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon- she could feel the heat radiating from the body next to hers, could smell the musky scent which had quickly pervaded the entire tent. She knew then that she wanted Severus Snape.

At that realisation, Hermione had closed her eyes more tightly and had moved to lie on her side, facing Severus, hoping that a change in position would help her sleep. But no, because she had not been able to stop herself from peeking her eyes open, to look at the man lying next to her, and then her eyes had met his and it had felt like a physical shove in her abdomen and suddenly his lips were on hers, his tongue was in her mouth, one hand had twisted into her hair and the other had slid down to her waist, gripping it tightly before pulling her against him. She had felt him immediately, already hard with need. The rest of the night had passed in a blur of heat, of gasps and of indescribable sensations so intense that Hermione was shaking with need merely at their memory.

They had never spoken about the physical side of their relationship, it had just happened. After that first night it had seemed natural to continue holding each other, caressing each other and fucking each other at every possible time of their remaining fortnight together. Of course they continued seeing the sights Italy had to offer while searching for potions ingredients, yet all of these actions seemed secondary in importance to the nights spent in each other's arms, to the lazy mornings spent reading, their legs tangled up in each other, to the evenings spent drinking wine, smoking and having intense conversations, an intellectual foreplay of what was to come.

After their initial meeting, the future hadn't been mentioned once until one of their last nights in Italy, after they had already reached Florence. Severus had been talking about his plans for his potions business when Hermione had just asked the question she hadn't realised had been weighing on her mind- would they see each other when they were back, or were they sticking to their original agreement? He had paused for a moment before answering her, looking at her as if searching for the answer. "What happens in Italy, stays in Italy" was all he had said before changing the subject.

Hermione had felt disappointment, but had accepted his answer readily. That had been their agreement all along and she shouldn't be surprised that he hadn't changed his mind. She had tried to put all thoughts of the future firmly to the back of her mind and had been determined to enjoy the rest of their holiday. If at night she had clung more desperately to him, had attempted to get so close to him that their bodies would melt into each other and they would become one, well, that was just the effect of the beautiful city of Florence, not any terror she had been feeling at their impending departure from Italy, and from each other.

Hermione was broken from her reverie by something tapping at her window- an owl. Initially she was surprised that an owl had been sent so early in the morning, before realising that it was already 8 AM. She had been so lost in her memories, she hadn't noticed the hours passing. Hermione chose not to dwell on the significance of that.

After the owl had been given a treat and sent on its way again, Hermione opened the letter which had been closed with a ministry seal.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_You are hereby formally invited to attend the Ministry ball in celebration of the defeat of the Dark Lord on September 9__th__ at 7 PM in Hogwarts Castle. You are strongly encouraged to attend, as there will be a prize giving of Order of Merlin's to those, such as yourself, who fought valiantly in the war on the side of the light. _

_I look forward to seeing you,_

_Yours faithfully,_

_The Minister_

Hermione screwed up the invitation and threw it against the wall in disgust. She could not believe that the words "Dark Lord" and "Ministry ball" had been uttered in the same sentence. She could believe, however, that the spineless twats at the ministry still didn't have enough backbone to refer to Voldemort by his real name, now that he was dead. Hermione had never even met the new minister, how dare he presume to address her so casually as to write "I look forward to seeing you"!? It hadn't even been four months since the "victory", since all of those deaths, since the destruction of Hogwarts, and already they were throwing a party in the very hall in which the final battle had taken place? How dare they! Hermione was sure that nothing, _nothing_, would ever induce her to attend such an insulting, insensitive, downright _revolting_ celebration.

**I'll update soon, tell me what you think :)**


	3. Chapter 3

The thestral-drawn carriage pulled up outside Hogwarts' entrance and Hermione stepped out of it, scowling. She couldn't believe that she had allowed Harry and Ginny to persuade her into attending the ball. At first she had been completely adamant that she would not go, that nothing in the world could possibly induce her to go. The very idea of it made her feel slightly sick- she wasn't ready to face everyone again, and she certainly wasn't ready to revisit the location of the final battle, full of so many painful memories. She was sure that she would not survive the night with her sanity intact.

But Harry and Ginny had spent hours trying to persuade her, had begged her, bribed her and guilt-tripped her until she could take no more. It wasn't that they wanted to go and they certainly didn't approve of the ball, although they didn't feel these sentiments as keenly as Hermione did. But Harry knew that his presence was expected, that the ball was being held in _his_ honour and that the future trouble he would have with the ministry if he didn't go, wouldn't be worth saving himself from a single night of torture. But he _needed_ Hermione there for moral support, and when he had said this, on his knees before her, begging her to attend, Hermione hadn't been able to refuse. She had been with him through everything else, she would stand by him for this as well.

And so there she was, standing outside Hogwarts in a simple, floor length black dress, her hair gently curled and falling down her back, her make up as simple as Ginny would let her get away with. She examined the castle's restored facade and let a cascade of emotions wash over her. Nostalgia for her childhood- there were so many happy memories contained within those very walls, so many years spent with her friends, with her studies. But all of her nostalgic feelings were tinged with the evils that had occurred there- Dumbledore's death and the horrors of the final battle were fresh in her mind. Hermione acknowledged those memories and the resulting nausea that was threatening to surface, and tried to place them firmly at the back of her mind. She needed to steel herself before seeing the great hall. She refused to let herself show any such weakness in front of so many strangers. Instead she let anger wash over her once again at being forced to re-enter a place that evoked such strong emotions in her before she was ready to see it again. Anger was good. Anger would protect her from other feelings she would be less able to cope with.

Hermione entered the great hall on Harry's left arm, Ginny was holding on to his right. Ron had told them that he would be joining them later, after he had picked up his date. Hermione was looking forward to seeing him, they hadn't had the chance to catch up since her return from Italy. To be honest, Hermione had been keeping to herself lately. She just needed the time alone, to sort out her life and to forget Severus. Of course she had been unsuccessful in both areas- she was still living in her friend's flat and still had no idea what she was going to do with her life, and she was still waking up from erotic dreams about her time in Italy every night, panting and sweating. She had learned not to think of him during the day, at least not consciously. But he was always there, lurking in her subconscious. Everything she did, she did as if he were watching her. She was beginning to worry that she may never forget.

The hall was beautiful. Or at least Hermione knew it was, without really feeling it. It was covered in white decorations, perhaps more befitting a wedding than a victory ball. The white contrasted the blood-red the great hall was associated with in her memory. She let the anger wash over her again, banishing the pain to the darker recesses of her mind.

People were everywhere, laughing and chatting, care free and happy. Hermione tried not to resent them for it, but it was difficult. Where had they been four months ago? Certainly not fighting by her side. It was easy for them to forget.

And then Hermione forgot. She forgot everything. All she could see, all she could know, all she could feel was the pair of dark eyes staring at her from across the sea of people. Dark eyes in a pale face surrounded by dark hair. Severus. Hermione stopped in her tracks, clutching onto Harry and making him stop too. She hadn't expected him to be here. It had never crossed her mind, not once. He hated social occasions almost as much as he hated ceremony, small talk and the overwhelming insipidity of the ministry. He stood on his own. No one was talking to him, and he didn't look like he cared. He looked glorious, all encased in black velvet, his face blank, but his eyes... how could she ever have thought them to be expressionless? Now they were glittering with intensity, the kind of intensity that removed everything else from Hermione's mind but him...

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Harry asked, concern clear in his features. Perhaps he felt guilty for forcing her to accompany him. Hermione couldn't tell. His question had torn her gaze from Severus', but her focus was still on the man on the other side of the hall.

"Nothing. Nothing, I'm alright Harry. Just a bit... overwhelmed."

Harry didn't seem convinced, but he led her and Ginny over to the drinks table and they all took some of the red wine. Hermione took a sip, but she had no idea what it tasted like. She tried to concentrate on what Ginny was saying to Harry, but her mind was utterly consumed with thoughts of Severus. What was he doing here? She wasn't surprised by the effect he'd had on her. She had failed so absolutely to forget him, to forget his touch, it was no wonder that seeing him would make her feel so... so something. She didn't know what she felt. Her mind was whirling around in circles, unable to focus on any particular thought. Her chest felt tight, constricted, she felt like she wasn't getting enough air. Her stomach was in knots, tightly curled, a mixture of nervousness, apprehension and... arousal. Underlying everything was the want, the need, that had defined her every moment since returning from Italy. Perhaps since meeting him in Palermo.

"Hermione, Hermione!" Someone was calling her. She wrenched herself out of the whirl of confusion that clouded her mind and tried to focus on the present. Harry was calling her.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm ok now. What were you saying?" Hermione was surprised at how steady her voice was.

"I was just asking if you were ready to receive your award. The ceremony should begin shortly, once everyone has finished arriving. Have you thought of what you want to say?"

Shit. Shit. Shit. She had completely forgotten about the awards, about the _speech._ Fuck! "Oh Gods, Harry! I hadn't thought, what do I do? Oh Gods, I never forget! What are you saying?"

"Hey, hey, calm down. Gosh, Hermione! You're never like this! It's fine, it's just speaking. I've just got all sorts of crap about what an honour it is, about how glad I am it's all over... and then I'll thank everyone who was in the order. Don't worry, no one's expecting a masterpiece. Just go with the generic. You don't have to say much at all!"

At that moment the new Minister approached them to shake their hands. What was his name again? Oh yes, Bertrum Huddington. The Ministry had seemed to pull him out of nowhere- Hermione had never heard of him before he was appointed, and she had always kept up to date with politics. From what she could tell, he was completely useless and about as pompous and stuck up as it was possible to get. And exactly the opposite of what the wizarding world needed at that moment- they needed a firm leader who would help with the recovery, restoration and renewal that was necessary after the war. Huddington, and the ministry as a whole, seemed completely obsessed with the ministry's image- they needed to be seen helping, regardless of whether or not they were actually helping. Clearly they felt embarrassed at the role, or lack thereof, they had played in the war. But instead of improving themselves, they were only trying to improve the wizarding world's perception of them.

Hermione surfaced from her musing after Huddington had finished greeting and sucking up to Harry and Ginny before moving on to her. "Miss Granger", he gushed, "what a pleasure it is to see you here! And you look absolutely wonderful tonight, if I may say so."

"Good evening." Hermione replied coldly. "I do not believe we have previously had the pleasure, Minister Huddington."

Huddington seemed to balk slightly at that, not knowing how to reply. Instead he pretended to catch sight of someone else, gave Hermione a quick, insincere smile, and hurried off. _Pathetic_ Hermione couldn't help but think. There was no way she was going to make a gushing speech of thanks for an award given to her by such a man representing such an institution. No. Perhaps she would have to make a bit of a stir...

Hermione waited patiently as the awards were being given out. The ceremony had begun with a speech given by Bertrum Huddington, satisfying all of Hermione's expectations: it had been boring, uninspired and insincere. There were quite a number of people receiving awards. The surviving members of the order, including Severus, were all receiving awards, as expected. And deserved. But there were some faces Hermione did not recognise. Ministry lackeys who were being awarded for "fighting the Dark Lord within the ministry". Hermione knew that such people did not exist. Hermione would have been infuriated that awards were being handed out to members of the ministry for no reason other than to further the ministry's image, if it hadn't been for the fact that she was too busy composing her own speech in her head. She only paused from her mental composition when it was the turn of someone she cared about to receive an award. They all gave short speeches, thanking the other members of the order, thanking the ministry, as if they had not sacrificed everything for every single person in the room. Only Severus said nothing as he went up. He accepted the award with a blank face, shook Huddington's hand and left the stage. But not before casting a glance at Hermione. When their eyes met, Hermione felt like she was on the verge of drowning again, drowning in the whirl of confusion and mixed emotions that her mind had descended into the first time their gazes had met that evening. But she couldn't allow herself that. She had something she needed to do. So as much as it physically hurt her to do so, she tore her eyes away from Severus', ignored the tightening of her stomach, and continued composing her speech.

Hermione was the second to last person to receive an award. Harry was, of course, the last, being the guest of honour and the most important hero of the war, according to the wizarding world at least. Not that Hermione didn't believe Harry deserved that particular status, but she could not help but feel that Severus deserved much more recognition than he actually received.

Hermione steadied herself when her name was called. She breathed in deeply and climbed the steps to the top of the stage, her heart pounding. But outwardly she was calm. Cold. Determined.

"An Order of Merlin, first class, awarded to Miss Hermione Granger, who fought valiantly alongside Harry Potter in the final battle and who aided him every step of the way, displaying her great courage, intelligence and valour in the face of evil." Huddington gave her the award and shook her hand. And then Hermione stepped forward to address the assembled.

"I am honoured to accept this award, an award which has been given only to the greatest witches and wizards throughout history. The award itself I gladly accept and I am glad to see bestowed upon those who fought with me in the final battle. However, in this case I cannot accept an award from the ministry of magic for my actions in the war, without emotions of a more negative kind. For while we were fighting in the face of unspeakable danger and terror, we were left entirely alone by the ministry, which had succumbed so easily and so quickly to the reign of Lord Voldemort." Hermione heard gasps from the audience, but carried on bravely. Without really noticing that she had done so, her gaze had settled on the one man in the room who gave her the courage to continue. His black eyes seemed to be encouraging her. Within them, Hermione thought she could see pride. "We were left with no support and no help, but that which we could provide for each other. We did not win easily, and at times it seemed that we would not win at all. And even when we had won, it did not feel like victory. Too many lives had been lost, too many families ruined. And yet, here we all are, celebrating. I can only say, that I hope tonight will be a celebration of the future, and not a celebration of the past. A celebration of a new wizarding world, in which old prejudices are forgotten and a new era of freedom and liberal development is created. I look forward to living in such a world, and I hope that everyone here tonight will be a part of its formation. Thank you."

And with that, Hermione left the stage and joined the rest of the order, avoiding the shocked stares of all the hall's occupants. No one had clapped as they had after the other awards had been handed out. Their shock was too great. But then Harry's name was announced and the hall exploded into applause, much greater than it would have been, had it not been for the audience's relief at the end of the silence following Hermione's speech. However, Harry did not make the original speech he had planned. He thanked Huddington and the audience for the award, before saying, "I can only say that I agree with the sentiments my dear friend Hermione Granger has expressed. I hope very much to be a part of the future she has envisioned for the wizarding world."

As Harry left the stage, the audience applauded, not knowing what else to do. Thankfully, the award ceremony was over then and the music started as drinks and canapés began being served again. Soon the hall was once again buzzing with movement and conversation. Harry and Ginny were whisked away to start the dance with a waltz.

Hermione was just wishing that she could go home, when she found herself in the arms of Molly Weasley, congratulating her for her speech, telling her that Fred would have loved it- Fred had loved anything which caused a stir and embarrassed those who believed themselves to be so high and mighty. And then Hermione was pulled into a circle of order members, and everyone was talking to each other and over each other, wondering how things were going and if anyone had any future plans and what they thought of the ball... everyone, that is, apart from Hermione and Severus, who stood opposite each other in the circle and had eyes for no one else. They were barely a metre apart, which seemed like nothing and everything at the same time. Hermione could not tell what he was feeling, what he was thinking- in fact she barely knew herself at that moment. She felt a type of euphoria after having made the speech, after having finally spoken out against this ball which had disgusted her so much from the very beginning. She truly hoped that it would make a difference. But when faced with the man that was Severus Snape, she stopped caring about anything but him. She wanted to reach out and touch him- she almost did, but then she wasn't sure how she would be received. Did he still want her? Why was he staring at her? His eyes seemed so closed off and unfathomable yet so open at the same time- why was he such a contradiction, such an enigma to her? She couldn't work him out. She thought she saw pride in his eyes, just as she had before, and perhaps she saw affection as well. For a moment she thought she saw desire- but as soon as she thought she had recognised an emotion within his depths, they suddenly seemed as cold and closed to her as ever. And yet they remained locked to hers, unwavering...

Suddenly everything came crashing back to Hermione, in a tidal wave of sounds and images- all the people, the music, the laughter, the chatter- it rushed over her, overwhelming, her ears were roaring and she felt dizzy and then she was running and people were looking and –thank God- she was outside and the air was cold and fresh and all the people were behind her- inside. Hermione leant against the wall, resting her head against the cold stone, breathing in as deeply as she could, trying to settle her emotions and calm herself.

And then she heard a sound and she looked, and there was Severus, tall and dark and glorious and his face was no longer blank, but _concerned_...

And then she was in his arms.

**Hehehe... :D I'll update soon, tell me what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's the last chapter! I hope you enjoy it, and please tell me what you think :) Thank you so much to everyone who has been supporting the story so far.**

Hermione clung to Severus so tightly that she could feel every contour of his body against hers. So strong. His arms had closed around her, holding her as tightly as she did him. All the anxiety and confusion Hermione had been feeling left her and she felt protected, secure.

"Severus" she sighed, and he responded by tightening his grip even further. Hermione smiled.

They stood there for ages, Hermione couldn't tell how long, just holding each other. Hermione's head was pressed into Severus' chest, and he had rested his head on top of hers. Perfect.

"You were wonderful." He said eventually, quietly murmuring into her hair. "You said what we were all thinking, what needed to be said. And yet, you were the only one with the bravery to say it." He turned his face slightly to kiss her hair.

They stayed silent for a moment longer. They could hear the music and the voices coming from inside, but it seemed muted somehow, as if there was some kind of invisible sound barrier surrounding the hall. There probably was.

"Severus..." Hermione finally asked what had been on her mind. "Severus, why did you say that? "What happens in Italy, stays in Italy"? Didn't you want to see me again?" She burrowed herself closer into his chest, waiting for his reply. He took his time.

"I... I had already assumed that we would see each other again. I had thought that that was a given... ever since that first night, together in the tent," he paused, breathing in deeply, "I had thought that we were together. A couple." Again he paused, as if expecting Hermione to say something. But she didn't, she just held him, trying to understand. He continued. "You must know, Hermione, that I have not had much experience with relationships. But I thought that that was what we had together, those weeks in Italy. A relationship. And then when you asked me if we were going to stick to our original agreement, I realised that you had not made that same assumption. I thought that perhaps it had all just been a fling for you, a holiday romance. And I didn't want to bind you to more than you wanted."

Hermione couldn't help smiling at his answer. They had both been so stupid. She stepped back slightly, breaking his grasp and looked up at him. His face was suddenly closed off again, wary. "No, Severus" she said, taking a hold of his hands. "I didn't just want a fling. I wanted more. I still want more. I just didn't know what you wanted, so I asked." And then she was back in his arms, and he was holding her as tightly as he had before.

But then all her weeks of yearning flooded back to Hermione and then simply holding each other wasn't enough. She needed more. Again, she stepped back, but this time it was only just enough for her to reach up onto her toes, grasp his head in her hands and press her lips against his. She started gently, caressing his lips lightly with hers. And then her tongue came out, tracing the line of his lips.

And then he responded, opening his mouth to meet her tongue with his. One of his hands came up to hold the side of her head, the other gripped her waist, pulling her against him again as he kissed her, almost frantically. Their tongues slid along each other and Hermione suddenly felt much too warm in her dress, small jolts of need running down to her groin. "Gods, I've wanted you so much" she gasped when they pulled away for breath, only to dive back to his mouth, nibbling on his lower lip, making him growl into her mouth before he plunged his tongue into it, dominating her completely. She could only gasp against him, letting him take her mouth, take her.

Suddenly she was being pushed back and together they stumbled until Hermione's back hit the wall. Her head would have slammed back against the brick, if Severus hadn't been holding it. But then Severus pushed himself into her and refastened his lips to hers, and all conscious thought fled Hermione's mind. She could feel his need, hard and hot against her abdomen, and the sensation went straight to her own groin, releasing a sudden gush of wetness in her knickers. Hermione moaned and one of her hands tangled itself in his hair, pulling his mouth harder against hers, and the other travelled down his long, firm back until it reached his arse, and she pulled him into her, trying to grind herself against him. Severus groaned and pushed one of his knees between her legs, making contact with her core as he pushed himself into her, desperate for contact. The hand at her waist started travelling upwards, caressing her stomach, feeling it squirm beneath his palm, and moving it until it was cupping her breast and then Hermione _mewled_ and the sound made Severus pulse against her and he gripped her breast more firmly, kneading it before running his thumb hard over her nipple, making her cry out in pleasure, causing her to tear her mouth from his.

There was a pause. Both Hermione and Severus were panting in deep, gasping breaths. Their eyes had locked and Hermione noticed how his were blacker than she had ever seen them, his pupils were so dilated with desire. They stared at each other for a moment and then, moving simultaneously, they were grappling with each other's clothes, their mouths once again attached to each other, their tongues twisting together, almost violently. Severus found the hem of Hermione's skirt and pulled it to her waist, his hands finding her knickers as Hermione was opening his belt and undoing his trousers, slightly hindered by the desperate need tenting them. By the time she had released him, her own knickers had slid to the floor and his talented fingers had found her clit and then she finally grasped him and he shuddered against her as she cried out in pleasure, and she needed him inside her, so badly, she didn't want to come without being full of _him_, so she pulled him against her, until he was resting against her core, and she pulled on his arse, trying to get him to sheathe himself inside her. But he was resisting, and he tore his mouth from hers and growled out "you've wanted this, haven't you, witch, Hermione! Tell me, tell me you've been craving this as much as I have!"

"Oh Gods, Severus, yes! Now, please! I've been dreaming about this every night, every night since our first- I tried to forget, but I couldn't- I need you, now, please!"

And then he had pushed into her, entering her fully with one thrust, and he growled again as she cried out in pleasure. He held himself there for a few moments, trying to give her time to adjust, trying to compose himself somewhat, but then she _mewled_ again and he pulled out, almost completely, and then he thrust again, pushing her hard into the wall with his cock, and it should have hurt, but all Hermione could feel was pleasure so extreme, she thought the world was ending. And then he was pounding relentlessly, and she kept begging for more, harder and faster and with each thrust she was pushed slightly higher up the wall, her dress tearing somewhat in the process, until she was so high up on her toes that she just gave up trying to support herself and wrapped her legs around his waist as he lifted her and then – oh – the new position was so much better. His cock suddenly brushed something deep inside her, something she had never felt before, even when they were in Italy, and every time he thrust in, he sank so deeply that his pelvis pushed into her clitoris, and it was so amazing, so glorious, and Hermione lifted her hips to meet his every thrust, each time faster and harder than the last time, and she had no control over her hands, which were gripping onto Severus' strong forearms, her nails sinking deep into his skin through his shirt, and she had no control over the sounds she was making- she was moaning and mewling and crying out and every sound she made seemed to make Severus even harder and even more frantic in his lust.

The coil that had been tightening in Hermione's stomach was now strung so tightly, she knew she was about to explode, she could feel it building and her toes were curling and she was crying out Severus' name and then... he stopped. He held himself inside her, panting out harsh gasps of air, gripping Hermione's hips so tightly, his fingers had gone white. "Severus, Severus, please!" Hermione whined, her hips trying to buck against his, but he was holding her too tightly, she couldn't move.

"Say you're mine, witch" he growled and still wouldn't move, but his head surged forwards and he fastened his lips to the side of her neck, sucking and nibbling, marking her as his. She cried out, incoherently, trying to form words but the pleasure and the desperate need to come were too strong...

"Severus, please, I need... I need..." and she was still futilely trying to buck her hips, but he stayed unmoving.

He released her neck and he ground out the words again: "Say. You're. Mine."

And Hermione understood this time and started chanting out a litany of "I'm yours, I'm yours" and then he was thrusting again, harder and faster than ever before, and she continued chanting the same words over and over again while he kept groaning her name. Hermione felt her release building again and every thrust took her higher and higher, her sweet spot and her clit stimulated at the same time, and this time he didn't stop, but he covered her mouth with his and then she exploded, screaming out his name as she shuddered in his arms, and her walls were clenching around him and Severus thrust into her again, once, twice and then with one last, hard push he was coming inside her, shuddering with bliss and groaning out her name, over and over again, as if it were a prayer, and then his knees gave out and they both fell to the floor, slowly, and she landed in his arms and he pulled her close and held her tight once more.

"I meant that, you know" Hermione said, once they had caught their breaths and refastened some of their clothing. "I am yours. I have been since we met in Palermo." Severus smiled and kissed her again, slowly and languidly, making love to her mouth and reigniting a small fire in the pit of Hermione's belly. She moaned softly.

"What do you say, we get out of here?" Severus said. "Come back to mine?"

After they had repaired her dress from the damage, they walked around the castle to the nearest apparition point. Hermione hoped that no one had heard them and seen them outside the hall, but in the end, she didn't really care. She was too blissfully happy, walking with him, one of his arms around her, keeping her tight to his side.

One year and eight months later, Hermione sat on the wall of the _Piazzale Michelangelo, _looking out at the sun setting over Florence. She was leaning back into Severus who was standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist as she leant against him, her head resting on his shoulder. She was blissfully happy.

They were on their honeymoon. There had never been any debate about where they would go, their destination was clear. At Hermione's insistence, they were staying in the same little green tent again, as they had two years ago, and Severus had readily acquiesced. It wasn't as if a big bed would have made any difference, he always held her close to him as they slept, so they hardly took up any space at all.

A few months after the ball, Hermione had moved in with him and had helped him start up his potions business. They had decided to "date" before making any serious decisions, but in the end it had been pointless. They could hardly stay away from each other and always ended up sleeping in the same bed every night, be it at his place or hers, or rather her friend's. And so moving in together had hardly been a big step. They didn't like being away from each other, and so it was perfect. As for starting a business together, Hermione had finally realised that that was what she wanted. She didn't want to struggle along trying to make a name for herself at the ministry, having to fight tooth and nail to make a difference. But her speech at the ball hadn't gone to waste. Harry had decided to go into politics instead of becoming an auror, and he regularly asked for her advice and her ideas. She was confident that he was exactly what the ministry, and the wizarding world, needed. And Severus was all that she needed.

Their business had become successful rather quickly- Severus had been inventing, new, useful potions for years, but had never made them available to the public before. They were hugely popular, and many soon became household items. Hermione helped with the brewing and the research, but it turned out that she had a talent for business. Under her care, they had expanded quickly and now had so many employees, there wasn't much left for them to do, apart from create new potions for other people to brew, which was what Severus enjoyed the most anyway. Hermione kept an eye over everything and kept the business growing. But they had a lot of time to spend together, reading, talking – they had both discovered a mutual love for cooking. And, of course, there was plenty of time left over for them to shag against every possible surface in the house. Which had very many surfaces.

Severus nuzzled her neck, bringing Hermione back to the present. She took one of his hands in hers and examined the way their gold bands gleamed in the sunset. She turned her head to look up at him and smiled, taking in his handsome features, which were gentled by the warm light of the setting sun. He looked down at her and returned her smile, his own lips curving upwards as if it was the most natural movement in the world for them to make. After all, now there were plenty of reasons for them to smile.


End file.
